body hair

I am quitting my life for something new

i am quitting my life for something new in europe.
the one-way ticket is to copenhagen, but i think i will not stay there.
the hope is to get work under the table if not over (visa?), and looking at the little mermaid statue does not present the kind of learning curve i seek in a professional undertaking.
also it’s starting to be baloney that i’m not proficient in a second language, and danish is probably not the one to invest in.
also i have been cold for fifteen years, more or less, since shortly after the arrival of that great letter from princeton, so probably i will make my way south to somewhere sweatier.
somewhere less prevailingly white.
somewhere that it’s okay for me to have a mustache.

I wrote to Tobin

i wrote to tobin to say hello and that my departure is getting near and everything is coming apart, mostly in a good way i think but i don’t know anything anymore.
she was — she reported — pinching ticks from her legs with tissues following a hairy romp through the spring fields of lincoln, flushing them away and marveling at her mother, who — she recalled — used to crush them between bare thumb and nail.
does anyone know anything? she wrote back.
because i also don’t know anything.
like i don’t even know that i hate ticks, per se.
they’re just trying to get by.
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